


Awake

by Tobiyond



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiyond/pseuds/Tobiyond
Summary: How the little Rat got his shiny new arm





	

He remembered falling asleep. Oil was taking the first watch, making sure the gang they’d stolen their supplies from didn’t find them. That made it safe. Oil was bigger than him. Stronger. So why was there a hand on his mouth, wrenching him out of sleep in a panic? Had they been found? Did he have to fight? He wasn’t ready. Please, he’d only been left handed for a week, he wasn’t ready.

 

His eyes adjusted to the low light to see a face hovering over his. Familiar. Safe. Oil. The hand was his, but his face. Rat had never seen such fear. He wasn’t allowed to be so afraid of anything. Wasn’t supposed to be. Rat was the coward. Dark brown eyes darted to his and a finger raised to his lips. Shhh. Quiet. So they had been found? No reason to be quiet otherwise. He nodded, placed a soft kiss on the palm and the hand was moved from his mouth. Oil didn’t smile. That wasn’t good. He loved kisses. 

 

Then a sound reached his ears. Cold. Mechanical. A whirring that he could almost feel in the back of his skull. The fear in his eyes matched the other boy’s now. No. No, it was dead. They checked. They made sure, didn’t they? He could feel his body start to shake, became aware of Oil laying on top of him, keeping him still. Where was it? He caught the panicked eyes again and managed to mouth the question. Where was it? 

 

A thud of metal against sand. The clank of parts moving. A step? The sounds were too close. They thought it was safe. How could they have thought it was safe? They were all supposed to be dead! Shut down. Out of commission. Not alive. Awake. Dangerous and waiting. No. Not waiting. Another step, closer this time. Shaking the walls of their rickety shelter. He looked up at Oil, hoping to find a plan. Oil always had a plan. He would tell Rat what to do and Rat would do it. No problem. They worked together. That’s why they were alive. 

 

There was no plan forming in those eyes. Only tears, hot and telling as he leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. They were going to die. They couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight it. It was one of the big bots, the kind the adults even had trouble with. What were two barely teenagers going to do against it? This wasn’t fair. They just survived torture. Punishment for stealing from the wrong group. Gotten away with a decent supply of- He looked down at the floor. Back up to Oil. Bomb. He mouthed the word as he thought it. He had one bomb picked from the belt of a dead man. It probably wouldn’t kill the bot, but it would hurt it. Enough for them to get away.

 

Oil’s eyes lit up. Hope. They weren’t going to die. They could do this. Slowly, slowly Rat shifted, long arm lowering to the floor. It was under their hammock. In a bag. He could reach it. Metal scraped against the floor. It was inside now. They weren’t hidden. It would see them. He could reach the bag. Stretching, fingertips fumbling with the latch. Another step. Harsh blue lighting washed over his hand. He couldn’t stop now. Almost there. If he just had a little bit more room. He shifted again, reached as far as he could.

 

Too far. Too much. He couldn’t hold back a strangled cry as the hammock upended, dumping them both on the floor.The blue light became a blinding red, noise like he’d never heard filling the air. Grating and terrifying and he couldn’t move. The bag was in his hand, but he couldn’t move. He killed them. He killed them both. Hands were on him and he wanted to scream, but they were warm. Thick. Oil had one hand on his side, the other on his shoulder and shoved. Hard. Rat’s head knocked against the bottom of a broken down dresser as he slid under it. He was thin, wiry and squirmy and there was barely room for him under it. Oil was too big. There wasn’t enough time. 

 

His eyes slammed closed at the deafening roar of the monster’s gun. The bullets sprayed the ground for what felt like hours. Someone was screaming. Was it him? He couldn’t tell anymore. Something warm and wet covered his face, but he didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t. Not until the rattling of chains and metal fell silent. The red back to a sullen blue. There was a stomp, the grate of movement and it sounded like the bot was leaving. Satisfied. Hungry for its next victim. Rat opened his eyes.

 

He wished he hadn’t. So much was wrong. Oil was big. Strong. Silent. Staring. Rat’s hand shook as he reached out to touch his face. So close. He dragged himself out from under the dresser, blood he tried not to think about making it easier. No. He couldn’t ignore it. There was so much. Too much. Red as the light that had swept over them. He wanted to scream, but it came out as a quiet sob. His hand cradled the other’s cheek, lifting his head just enough to press their foreheads together again. One last time. A comfort that brought him no closure. Oil promised to protect him. Kept him safe. Rat couldn’t even repay that. Tears mixed with the blood on his face.

 

Outside, the bot continued walking. Didn’t feel any remorse. Didn’t care. Rat felt his veins light up, anger searing through him. What right did it have to take away something that was his? Turning, he yanked the bag out from his hiding spot. One bomb. Just enough. He was on his feet and moving before he could falter. His days of chickening out, of turning tail and running, were over. He had to be brave enough for both of them. 

 

Held between his elbow and hand, the bomb activated with ease. The bot turned too late. Rat was on it’s back, jamming the ball down into the first spot that looked full of mechanisms and useful bits. He hit the ground hard as soon as he let go and scrambled back for the shelter. There was the sound again. The hellish shift of metal, but this time no bullets would follow. He wasn’t far enough away when it went off, the heat licking at his back and drawing a painful shout out of his throat. No. No he was okay. His skin burned and his ears rang, but he was okay. He looked back.

 

Tears started fresh, overcome with the sight. It was gone. Blown to pieces just like it should’ve been when they got there. He did it! His chest ached and he glanced back to the shelter. They did it. Struggling to his feet, he limped over to the wreckage. If it wasn’t dead, it at least wasn’t going to be hurting anyone. Not in that many pieces. He allowed himself a small smile. Eyes wandering over what was left, he stopped. An arm laid among the scorched metal, still mostly in tact. It was too long, but maybe someone in town could work with it. Maybe. He picked it up, grunting at the weight and careful to avoid any still hot parts. Yeah. This could work.

 

The bot took something of his. It was only fair that he return the favor.

**Author's Note:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com - -


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